A Tevinter Sacrifice
by SkoomaBee
Summary: And so begins the Prequel to "Reign Over Tevinter." This story follows Leto as a slave before he enters the competition to free his family, focusing on his romantic relationship with a girl named Astoria. This is a sad story, because Leto's story is sad no matter how you look at it. LetoxFOC


**HELLO!**

**Some of you have been expecting this. It's the prequel for "Reign Over Tevinter," the backstory of our favorite elf, Fenris. It will be relatively short (but... Reign Over Tevinter is over 200k words, so we'll see about that). This is all about Leto. Please tell me if you love/hate it, whatever you feel. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you all enjoy this.**

**Writing this, I am also simultaneously writing my NaNo (which is already past 50k words, but whatever). One of my storylines in my NaNo (since I'm writing about four different characters particularly), was completely inspired off my ideas for this. Though that's a different story, and this is another. I'm going to be drawing ideas from my original story and adding them into this one, essentially providing my own history of Leto. Let me know how you all enjoy it/hate it, whatever. =)**

**There will be a lot of dark, disturbing images/themes in this story, since it is about slavery. But since I feel uncomfortable writing this like this, they won't normally be too graphic. Just a warning, anyway.**

* * *

"Leto."

The hot wind breathed over the meadow, shivering the grass and rattling the rushes. Palm trees and tropical bushes danced under the autumn day. Bulbous clouds rolled in from the east, from the sea and from places a slave only hears about, but never visits.

Leto wiped his brow on his shoulder, trying to rid himself of the sheen of sweat.

"Leto?"

He looked up under a curtain of black hair, pin-straight and thick, with striking eyes and a strong nose. Varania knelt beside him, her copper hair falling over her shoulders.

"What?" He asked, pausing at her wary expression. His little sister always had some appearance of fear, but even her willowy hands were trembling now. "What's wrong?"

"They're bringing new slaves," she whispered, plucking the weeds from the garden where Leto knelt on the stones, his hands covered in soil.

Leto furrowed his brow at her in confusion. "What's your point?"

Varania chewed her lip for a second. Leto glanced around. There were roughly three guards stationed not too far, but they were paying him no mind. Other slaves picked fruit from the trees of the courtyard or tended the gardens, all demure, servile people with their heads bowed and steps quiet.

"Did they kill anyone?" Varania ventured, her voice shaking like her voice. "Are they going to kill anyone?"

Leto sighed, not knowing what else to do. What could he truly tell her? "New slaves don't always mean anything, Varania. Sometimes they are to replace the old or the weak or disobedient, but... I haven't heard anything. Get to work, before they catch you," he pleaded, turning back to what he was doing. Then, more softly, without taking his eyes off the weed he pulled from the ground, he told her, "You worry too much, sister. Mother is a hard worker. She isn't old enough to be replaced."

"I saw a guard kick her, Leto," Varania whispered. Her mossy eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't shed them. Another breeze swept over the land, rustling the fruit trees. Leto noticed that the birds were quiet, anticipating the incoming storms.

"Which guard?" He asked, voice low. A red hot rage flared in the pit of his stomach, but he was good at controlling himself.

It was as if Varania had read his thoughts. She wiped her dirtied hands on her dress and stood, padding off to work elsewhere without a word. Leto growled low in his throat, glancing between the guards. Was it one of them? He'd find out.

Leto considered what would realistically happen, even if he were to do something. He'd be lashed at the very least, but more likely than that killed. He couldn't do that. He couldn't leave his mother and little sister here. He ripped out his next weed angrily and then sat back on his haunches, glancing around.

He gathered up his weeds and disposed of them before heading across the courtyard towards the stables. He wiped his hands on a rag in there and held the hoof pick, green eyes scanning the dark, foul-smelling stables for a calm horse.

Leto went to a chestnut mare and ran his callused palm up her snout, wishing he could climb on her and ride off far away with his family. These dreams were fruitless, he knew, but there'd be nothing better in all the world. He'd do anything for it. A solemn longing churned in the pit of his stomach like it always did.

He picked up her hooves and picked the dried mud from them, a job he didn't mind too much because the horses were one of the few creatures around here that weren't always living in a state of fear. Leto fell into a quiet trance as he scraped out the mud on all of the horses before leaving the barn. He looked out at the meadow and the courtyard, at the guards and slaves.

A hot wind blew over the mansion and into the meadow, and Leto could smell rain coming. He paused as he heard the double doors leading into the courtyard swing open. Guards were chortling and making lewd and rude comments, and Leto knew the new slaves were here. They were always greeting with the same typical welcoming message;_ you're slaves, you're property, and you're worthless._

He knelt down beneath a lemon tree and pretended to work on the flowers, gazing up from beneath his black hair to see what the new stock was like.

The master had bought five new slaves. Four were men, ranging between young and middle-aged. The youngest was still older than Leto, and had a beard. A human, Leto realized. The other three men were elves, skinny and dirtied, but with handsome faces, and clothed only in loin cloths. Behind them trailed a human girl, trembling and crying with her shackled wrists bloodied. It was clear she hadn't sold herself into this lifestyle willingly.

She must be a new slave, he realized - new to this kind of life. Leto averted his gaze only for a moment, trying not to look suspicious. The girl was built better than the other elven women, but she'd soon be just as thin as them. She had already hit puberty, and had pretty brown hair falling down her back in curls. The girl at least was given something to cover more than just her groin, but she was clearly sensitive to the gross comments the guards made, all aimed at her.

She sobbed as one guard shoved her in the middle of her back with the pommel of his sword. She stumbled into the man in front of her, who shrugged her away and scowled ahead. Leto wondered how old she was, and where Master Mavion would find a human slave girl that had obviously never been introduced to this life before.

New slaves went through a shaming process before they were settled in. Leto had never had to go through it, being only a little child when his mother sold herself into slavery, but he was certain he knew what had happened to her. The same thing that happened to all the women that came here - they were raped in the courtyard if they were pretty, beaten if not.

This girl was pretty, or would be if her face wasn't dirtied and she wasn't sobbing, and Leto felt badly for her. It was a curse to be attractive as a slave in Tevinter. Magisters loved beauty, and would pay substantially more for a slave with a nice face and body, even if they weren't as good of a worker. At parties, good-looking slaves would be posed and painted up, made to serve delicacies or services of a more basic nature.

All the new slaves were forced to kneel in a row on the hard, unforgiving stones of the courtyard. The girl looked around her, trying to gauge this new place. Leto saw that her eyes were a striking blue, at least against the layer of dirt on her face. Tears stained through the dirt and dust, and her eyes fell on him for a brief moment. Leto sucked in a breath and glanced down at the flowers, and when he looked back up she had her eyes shut as if in prayer.

The magister strolled out into the courtyard, his maroon robes swishing at his feet. He leaned on his ornate staff, dark eyes looking over his new stock. The girl collapsed onto her elbows, sobbing, and one of the guards grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up, back to her knees. Leto winced as she cried out.

Master Mavion scratched at his dark beard and nodded to the girl. "She is to remain unspoiled, per my order. Is this understood?" He raised his voice, looking around for consent. His eyes flitted briefly over Leto, who bowed his head.

"Yes," the guards tried not to sound disappointed, but Leto knew that the master had noticed. Still, they would obey. The guards were slaves as well, and if they deliberately disobeyed this order, they would be castrated.

"She will fetch me a good price in a few years as a virgin." He took a step forward and put the head of his staff under her chin, lifting her head. "Try not to cry so much, you are less appealing as such."

The girl bit her lip, and Leto saw that she tried to stop crying, but couldn't. The magister frowned at her, but moved on to the men. He twisted one of the elf's ears painfully, making the man hiss through bared, gritted teeth.

The master moved on from him too after a moment, and cocked his head at the human. He asked the man a question, but Leto couldn't hear it. After a minute, the magister turned and went towards the mansion, waving them off dismissively. Leto sighed. He knew what would happen now.

One of the guards cackled at a joke and unfurled a leather whip. He struck the girl first. She had clearly not been expecting it. She fell forward, screaming as a gash opened on her back. One of the new elven men stared at her, until it was him that was lashed.

Leto couldn't stand the screaming. He got up to his feet and walked off, away from the sobbing and the wailing, the crack of the whip and the cackle of the guards. They stole that girl, he knew. She didn't choose this life, unlike his mother. Blood would stain the stones tonight, and tomorrow the new slaves would have to scrub them clean. Their backs would crack open and continue to bleed on the stones, and it was surprisingly enough to break some slaves.

The rain started to fall, thick clouds blocking out the oppressive sun. It hardly made it any cooler outside. Tevinter was always unbearably hot, even in the middle of winter during the dry season. Leto ran across the meadow towards the stables again, where he lived in a small, one room attachment on the end of the building. The other slaves lived in something similar to a longhouse. It was a stable once, but now served as a place for all the other slaves to stay.

His mother had gotten lucky, having her own place with her children. When she had arrived at the magister's thirteen years ago, he had given her the room she lived in because she had two children, one an infant and one a toddler. The other slaves would have hated living with little children, and the longhouse was still being fixed to be housing for the slaves. Sharna had never been told to move, so she never did, and Leto and Varania had grown and bothered few.

Leto jogged across the meadow towards his home, the rain pouring down on him and making his black hair stick to his face. Varania was already outside, washing herself when he arrived.

Slaves were not allowed to use any of the real baths, so getting clean was a challenge. Often times, if Leto had to wash a horse, he'd use the water on himself first, in secret. He had been caught once and whipped for it, but he still did it.

Varania handed him the soap as she wrung out a rag and scrubbed herself with it. Leto rushed to wash before the rain stopped, but it was pouring long after he went inside to dry.

Sharna was preparing their meager meal for them, her red hair tied back in a braid, her warm green eyes not quite almond shaped like his, but still big and youthful, like most elves. Leto looked little like her, but he was told he was a spitting image of his father, a black-haired, strong-nosed, tall elf with caramel skin and full lips. Leto had imagined him often, and even used to remember him long ago. But the memory had faded now, and how much of it was a fabrication he couldn't say.

"How was your day today, my little moon?" Sharna asked, smiling at him slightly as she stirred something in the kettle over the fire. Leto shrugged, patting himself dry. He bowed forward and ran the dry rag over his wet hair, ruffling it.

"It was fine," he said, before standing and hanging the rag over a small rack. "I saw the new slaves." He leaned over the kettle and sniffed. Some kind of stew, plain but with some meat in it, it seemed.

"Oh?" Sharna asked, not sounding terribly interested. She looked at Varania and poured her a bowl of stew. "Anyone of interest?"

Leto shook his head. "Three elven men, one human man and a human girl."

Pity flashed across her face. "Human girl? Why, I wonder?"

"She's pretty," he answered, and that was reason enough. Varania blew on her stew, trying to cool it as she settled close to the fire. Sharna poured another bowl and tried to hand it to Leto. "No, you first, mother."

That was his custom. Leto was perpetually hungry, but he always made Sharna and Varania eat before he'd allow himself a bite if it looked like they might not have enough food for all three. It made his mother raving mad sometimes, but he never relented unless he had been beaten by a guard or the magister, which he had managed to learn how to avoid now.

"Poor thing, then," Sharna muttered, speaking about the girl.

"The magister said she's to remain 'unspoiled,'" Leto said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Varania took a spoonful of her stew, and Sharna arched an eyebrow.

"She must be highborn, then. A highborn, pretty virgin would fetch an astronomical price." She ate her stew and then cleared her throat as she poured Leto a bowl and took the now empty kettle off the fire.

Leto ate and then settled on his thin cot, pulling his blanket up over his shoulders. Varania was drawing something from imagination as Sharna cleaned. He fell asleep to the gentle music of the rain on the roof, dripping into buckets and bowls where there were holes in the ceiling. A howling wind ripped outside, but Leto was asleep in moments, and he dreamed of a young face covered in dirt and tears, and her screams were in his nightmares.

* * *

The next day he saw her kneeling in the mud, tears still dripping from her eyes as she scrubbed the stones. Her back was ruinous, and Leto winced when he saw it - bloodied and ripped open in over a dozen places. Leto walked by her and said nothing. There was nothing he would or could do for a new slave. They were always difficult - too frightened or headstrong, and they never lasted too long. Only the ones born into slavery lasted, like him.

Poor girl, he thought as he carried firewood on his shoulder. The girl glanced up at him, eyes striking and blue, but she barely seemed to see him. Her eyes were vacant of all emotions except for pure, bone-chilling fear. She continued with her duties, and Leto went into the mansion, carrying the firewood towards the magister's room.

Later, he saw her in the grand foyer, scrubbing the marble floors with two other slaves - one of which was Varania. His sister was quietly working while the girl talked in a hushed voice to the other slave. But the moment was soon over, and a guard barked an order at her and shoved her with his foot.

Leto felt badly for the poor girl. She was his age, likely. Slavery would ruin her, even if she was to remain "unspoiled." That in itself was the greatest gift the magister could have given her. Varania had never been given such a gift, though so far she had been exceedingly lucky, and perhaps too young to pique a guard's interest.

This girl would draw a lot of attention, he knew. _His_ interest, even, was piqued but that was all. A slave's life was a fragile, delicate thing, and love was like glass armor. It felt nice to have on, but it was more dangerous to yourself than anything and could easily be shattered. Having anyone close to you would be just another thing the magisters can use against you. Leto had two women in his life, and it was all he wanted.

But Varania had noticed the way he smiled when the girl looked at him one day, before her first week had finished there. Varania had pinched Leto's arm.

"You're blushing!" Varania gasped as they walked towards the kitchens. The girl had been polishing some busts in the main corridor.

"I am not," Leto replied, but he knew it was a lie.

Varania smirked at him and for a moment she seemed older than thirteen. "You _are_. Look at you. Do you want to know her name?"

That was too tempting. "Yes," he answered, glancing behind him. But the girl was too far away for her to hear now. She paid him no mind. Today was the first time he hadn't seen her crying.

"Astoria. Her name is Astoria," Varania smiled. It was such a whimsical name for a slave. Leto pitied her in so many ways.

Later, he thumbed a leather bracelet he had made, watching the sun set behind the magister's estate, sitting and leaning against his little shack of a home. Inside the home behind him, Varania's laugh drifted through the cracks in the walls.

* * *

"'Stay as strong as you are beautiful,'" Leto said sheepishly with a smile, pressing the leather bracelet into Astoria's palm. Her dazzling blue eyes widened in surprise and admiration.

Astoria sat back on her heels where she knelt on the floor with the rag left unattended. Her knuckles were cracked and bleeding slightly. Her tunic was stained with blood from her back from when she had first arrived at the estate.

Leto gently took her hand where she held the gift, her fingers closing around it. She was speechless, and he struggled to keep the smile from being too obnoxious on his face. Holding her hand, he ran the fingers of his other hand over her knuckles.

"If you come with me later, my mother can fix these for you." Leto pulled his hands away with a gentle smile. Varania had instructed him on what to do, how to talk to her._ Be kind,_ she told him. _Notice something particular and show concern._

"Th-thank you," she said, finally finding something to say. She glanced at the bracelet in her palm and then held it between her thumb and index finger of both hands. "Did... did you make this?"

He shrugged. "It only took a few minutes. Varania taught me how. She's my sister. You may have seen her – she has copper hair. Elf."

Astoria's eyes flitted around the foyer and Leto nodded towards the rag as he continued cleaning beside her. She chuckled and put the bracelet in her pocket before curling her fingers back around the rag. She leaned over and continued scrubbing the floor.

"Oh? Your sister's an elf?" She asked, and it took him half a second to realize that she was jesting, teasing him for saying something so obvious. Her voice, however, still showed how clearly nervous she was.

He chuckled in reply. "I suppose I didn't need to clarify that."

This time he got a small laugh from her, and it made him grin, pleased.

"I think I have seen her around. She likes to draw, right?"

"Yes. She's talented."

Astoria nodded and relaxed her grip on the rag as her bleeding worsened slightly.

"You should come look at her drawings. I tell her all the time how good they are but she thinks I'm just being nice." Leto inwardly groaned at his obvious eagerness, but Astoria didn't seem put off by it.

"Thank you." She dropped her gaze to the floor and then sighed, her brow knit together in worry. "I'm sorry. I'm usually more... approachable."

Leto gave an understanding nod. "It's not every week you're sold into slavery."

She trembled beside him and bit her bottom lip, and Leto saw that tears were brimming in her eyes. He cursed himself for speaking so foolishly.

"Don't worry -" he said quickly, his grin gone from his face. He glanced around. There was a guard posted at the top of the staircase, but he didn't seem to be focused on them. "Master Mavion is one of the better magisters."

Astoria blinked back her tears and glanced at him, a glimmer of hope in the back of her eyes. "Really?"

He nodded reassuringly but continued working. "Definitely._" And I have the scars to prove it,_ he thought bitterly.

Astoria shivered. Her blue eyes planted themselves on the marble floor and she slowly, methodically dipped the rag back in the bucket of soap water and wrung it out. "What's going to happen to me? The magister said he wanted me 'unspoiled,' does that mean what I think it means?"

Leto frowned and thought about not answering. But slowly and eventually he gave a nod. "I don't know what will happen to you. But it isn't hopeless." He waited a moment until she met his gaze and looked away sadly, as if she didn't believe him. "Stick with me for now – I can show you how to go by unnoticed."

A faint glimmer of a smile spread across her face. "Thank you...?"

"Leto." He offered her a grin.

"Leto," she said softly, like she was committing it to memory. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name on her lips. "I'm Astoria."

"Beautiful name." He wrung out his own rag over the bucket and chuckled, trying to remain calm and keep from blushing. "I'm supposed to actually be cleaning the kitchen. But I wanted to say hello. I live at the end of the stables, in the apartment with my family." Leto stood up and glanced up at the guard before smiling at Astoria. "If you would like to know my mother's secret to bleed-free hands."

She chuckled and nodded. "You can count me there already."


End file.
